


The Looking Glass

by eurosthewanderer



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Because frankly AOS Spock has some serious issues, Ion storms are shit, Like I'm working on the third chapter now and I don't think you're gonna like him, M/M, Nero is a dick, Past Spock/Nyota Uhura, Spock is an absolute fucking mess guys, The Narada Incident, and he needs to deal with them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:17:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurosthewanderer/pseuds/eurosthewanderer
Summary: Ion storms like one James Tiberius Kirk. Here's one of the universes he gets to visit.





	1. Through The Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. It's midnight. This is loosely based on a comic I read a while ago where there were alternate version of the main characters turning up and in one Spock had been raised on earth. Uhura was killed in that universe which is bullshit. Also so is formatting. If anyone could tell me how to upload an edit onto this site I'd be very grateful/willing to write you something (it'll probably take forever fyi).

 

Yeziga is a near lightless planet, with the sun blocked out for most of the 400 day year by pounding, hot rain. The Ehudan’s are a grey skinned, amphibian species, with powerful whiplike tails, pale glowing eyes and helium pouches that enabled them to float about at different heights. They are also quite friendly and eager to explore the universe, having already set up colonies on their three satellite planets. Jim’s main concern when recommending opening trade relations-other than a lack of unified government-would be Starfleet’s ability to accommodate a massive influx of Ehudan recruits. He’d already been talked into taking eight scientists, fourteen diplomats and their extended families onto the Enterprise for fuck’s sake. They were settling in well, apparently, according to his blatantly pissy first officer.

“It has been a great gift, Captain.” The Minister of Lzyan hovers, tail anchored loosely to his arm, watching Lieutenant M’Ress from the corner of his eye. Various other heads of government and diplomats are waiting around the transporter pad as the last of the crew beam up.

“We receive your generosity with open bellies and warm minds.” Jim replies as the Tzak of Wvyk wraps his tail around Jim’s other bicep. Jim expected ziti to be in snit but instead ziti just floated, casually flicking a fleshy whisker to brush Jim’s side bang off his forehead.

“Our sensors are detecting an ionic disturbance near your orbit, would the party stay further turns?”

“I am afraid not Tzack,” Jim smiled softly stepping to the transporter, “But the interference hasn’t reached the level that it’ll harm me.”

The Tzack unwinds tzitian with a final flick of zitiz whiskers.

“Eat well, Captain Kirk.”

“My table is always open, Tzack.” Jim shakes his head, dropping his jaw so his cheeks wobble lightly before joining the last of the diplomatic party on the transporter pad and flicking his comm open.  

“Mr. Scott; last to beam up!”

The last thing he hears are a group of inhuman screams as the landing platform explodes.

* * *

 Jim’s puking all over Spock’s shoes when he realizes he’s an idiot and something has, of course, gone ass over tits wrong.

“Jim!” Uhura, M’Ress, Giotto and Lasharnak are gone and Spock-it’s Spock, the eyes and the mouth leave that to no doubt-has thick half-moon, almost bushy eyebrows beneath an impeccable side part. It’s still Spock though, Jim would know that voice even if he was deaf. But he’s wearing _black, square glasses_. But he’s never heard him shout like that before. Spock’s grabbing his shoulders, rolling him onto his side, shouting for a doctor before he places his big palm in the hollow place between Jim’s shoulder blades. Jim can feel the heat of the slender fingers through two layers of shirts. His depth perception starts to shift and he raises a hand to paw at Spock’s face in panic. Spock, gently, with the hand not on Jim’s back presses his palm over the back of Jim’s hand, so that Jim is cradling his cheek.  

“Jim.” Spock’s whispers, his voice barely audible even to Jim. “Breath, please, breath. Bones is coming. You’re going to be alright. Breathe, m’ashayam.”

“Ashayam?” Jim’s voice is slur, his tongue too thick to form words.

 “You’re going to be alright, Jim.” Spock repeats and then goes onto say something else that’s lost to the sound of a gurney clattering into the room and Bones’ shouting.

Spock’s eyes stay on him even as his vision swirls so badly that he can only see black smudges on Spock’s face. Spock’s fingers rub along his spine and against the back of his palm. The last thing Jim remembers before he blacks out is thinking, _here we fucking go again_.

Alright, this universe isn’t actually that bad, Jim acknowledges when he comes to in medley while a bearded Bones fusses over him. He’s not a linguistics professor with rape fantasies nor a prince’s concubine-though he really hopes those two managed to work their shit out. He’s actually himself for once, hotshot Captain of the USS Enterprise, undertaking Starfleet’s first ever five year mission; single, ready to mingle and probably in love with his first officer. With a simple country doctor to run his medbay, a mad Scotsman making his engines purr and the best alpha shift in the ‘Fleet-this Jim is him. Except for the fact that his first officer is maybe the one in love with him. Or it’s mutual. Jim’s not sure, yet, he’s still trying to get his hands on a padd.

“Come on Bones! I’ve got paperwork to do,” He whines in his most convincing Captainly voice, propped up in a bed with a pounding headache. “I’ll only do an hour’s…”

“Really?!” The beard makes Bones substantially less intimidating. It’s almost like confronting a rabid, shaggy bear instead of a hypo wielding sadist. “And here I was thinking that the hobgoblin had finally whipped you into shape.”

“I have,” A new, familiar voice interrupts, “Jim, you finished the mission reports last night.” Spock stands in the doorway, face a warped mask of worry.

“Oh,” Jim says as he scrambles for something, anything to say. “But I haven’t forwarded the threat recon yet.”

“No.” Spock says as he walks over to the side of the bed, hands loose by his side. “The reconnaissance data was forwarded the moment our orders to return from the Neutral Zone reached the ship.”  He leans down, cupping Jim’s cheek into his warm palm before pressing a kiss to his forehead. His perfect bow lips are as warm as Jim remembers. With Spock’s fingers lightly resting against his meld points, Jim can feel the half-vulcan’s tangled feeling of relief, fear, and heartbreaking adoration. Jim turns his head slightly, nuzzling into Spock’s hand, eyes growing wet.

“Jim,” Spock mutters, pulling away, eyes wide, “What’s happened?”

Bones gags somewhere off to Jim’s left. Spock looks up a the pronouncement, pulling his hand from Jim’s cheek.

“His scans are completely normal. I bet his memory will straighten itself out within the next 72 hours.” The Doctor says.

“Are you certain?” Spock asks.

“Perfectly,” Bones snaps back. “I ran them twice already.”

“Then explain why he seems to have lost at least two days worth of memory.”

“Ion disruption of neurological pathways.” Bones waves his padd at Spock. “While those deathtraps are more likely to swap your stomach with your small intestine there’s some cases where they cause temporary amnesia.”

“And what has become of those cases?”

“They’ve been fine, unless there’s a hemorrhaging or nose bleeds but we would have already seen that.”

Spock turn to look at Jim, clearly still worried.

“Heck,” Bones continues. “He’s fit as a fiddle.”

Jim blinks back the tears suddenly forming in his eyes, forcing himself to smile. “Goodie. So about that padd?”

“We’ll see about that in the morning.”

* * *

“Come on, Bones!” Jim grumbles from the bed, eyes wet, rolling in his skull, even as he yawns. Spock wants desperately to agree with Jim, watching his intended frustrated and confined is never been a pleasant experience but Leonard is right in this case. Jim needs to be here in Medbay, not sitting on the bridge laughing with the Gamma crew.

“Dr. McCoy is right.” Spock says. “You need to sleep, m’ashayam.”

“Not you too, Spock.” Jim says, even as his eyelids droop. Jim reeks of anxiety and exhaustion so Spock gently lifts the blankets over his shoulders, hoping the gesture will bring his intended some comfort.

“Yes me too,” Spock presses a kiss to Jim’s forehead and two fingers to Jim’s temple. “Sleep, my love.”

“Chess tomorrow?” Jim asks. He already has heavy eyelids and long lashed to complement his striking orbs but when he looks up at Spock, half-awake and like the half-human is his entire world Spock cannot resist pressing another kiss to his brow. Jim needs to sleep, not be up drinking past midnight with Spock and Scotty waiting for soil results from an asteroid.

“Indeed.” Spock says and slowly forces himself to pull away from his intended’s enticing flesh. Jim needs to rest not be fucked through the mattress, as Spock desires. He’s been distracted for the last two shifts thinking about it, about Jim spread one beneath his palms, loose, wet and begging for it. Jim’s miraculous eyes close before he’s even left the room.

It's not like he hasn’t made love in Medbay before, when Nyota had rigged his monitors after the Bradbury had had a spat with Orion slavers. He feels his lust drain away at the memory of Dr. Chapel’s sickbay. It happens more often now. He thinks of her more and cares for her less. Frankly, Spock had decided he doesn’t want to know is she had gone to see Chapel before or after they’d coupled.

“Want a drink?” Bones grunts. Spock nods sharply and then follows the Doctor down the hallway to his office. The Medbay on the Enterprise was not identical to that of the older Bradbury in any way. In fact, both Medbay’s were complete opposites. Much like the rest of the Enterprise and her crew. He’d managed to be an average of 0.4 minutes late to every meeting he had aboard for the first two weeks, though he had, as always, reported promptly for his duties every morning. Abbott was respected while Spock’s first impression of Jim was that he was simply jovial and completely undisciplined. Spock was determined to be the complete opposite and had come aboard ready to loathe the Captain but found himself unable to even dislike Jim. God, he feels his face flush with the memory of that first night.

“What’s on your mind?” Bones asks, sliding a glass of whiskey across the table to him while Spock sits in one of the overstuffed chairs. Spock thanks him and sips, savoring the burn of it across his tongue before swallowing. Leonard pours himself a glass and raises it to his lips.

“When Jim and I first had sex I called out Nyota’s name.”

Bones spits his whiskey back into his glass, choking. “Warn a fella, will ya?”

“My apologies.” Spock says, not feeling sorry at all.

“Jesus man.” Bones snaps. “You know I thought you two were a bit odd at first but now I think it’s a god given miracle he’s gonna marry you.”

“I am inclined to agree Doctor.”

“I think it’s also a freakin’ miracle you’re even on this ship.”

“I beg your pardon?” Spock asks, confused, watching the golden, bronze liquor swirl around his glass before he takes another sip.

“The new shrink we picked up, M’Benga-you remember him?” Bones asked.

“From the Farragut, yes.” Spock says. “If you remember I personally interviewed him along with yourself and Dr. Dehner 2.5 months after my transfer.”

“Meh, never mind then.”

“Clearly you are intent on imparting information you deem important.” Spock responded, remembering what said Dr. M’Benga had advised him. “And I value your opinion very highly, Leonard.”

“Well,” The Doctor leaned in conspiratorially and drained the rest of his whiskey before he continued. “Apparently somebody at the Bradbury tried to headhunt him but he used to be sweet on one of the nurses and she told him that Abbott had been hemorrhaging crew for around six months before he just stopped approving transfer requests.”

Spock takes a drink, not liking where this is going.

“She told him that you were the first of around twenty bridge crew transfers.”

“Unfortunate but now unexpected.”

“Really?” Bones asked pouring himself another drink before liberally refilling Spock’s glass. “Why was that?”

“There were several personal relationships that ended disastrously and resulted in a lot of people being unable to tolerate the each other.” Spock said, deliberately setting down his glass of whiskey having not taken another sip.

“Including your divorce.”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” Bones grumbled. “They’re hell man. I can’t even go see my daughter for Christmas without half of the town either pointing or running away.”  

“Indeed,” Spock said. “I can empathize.” 

“Why do you think I’m not getting married again?”

“I was under the impression Lieutenant Commander Vro found marriage to be an unnecessary system that tended to be over complicated at best and ‘fucked up’ at worst.” Spock responded. Leonard glared at him for a moment, clearly mulling over the comment.

“Says the man crazy enough to get hitched for the second time in five years.”

Spock was disappointed, frankly he expected more vitriol from the good doctor following such a successful attack. But then again, Leonard left much room for assumption and clearly required correction.

“I am not going to remarry within that preposterous time frame.”

“What?!!!” Bones shouted. “You absol...”

“Jim and I want to wed after the mission is complete.” Spock cut him off. “Additionally, we have discussed civilian cohabitation prior to marriage which indicates that our nuptules may be delayed even further.”

“So?”

“My second marriage is unlikely to begin for another 2.5 to 3 years and as such I will not have had two spouses in five years.” Spock responded, rather smugly.

“Bully for you.” Leonard snapped. “Get out.”

  



	2. In The Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shit almost hits the fan. Seriously, this is my first multi-chapter fan-fiction and I don't have a beta so if you could leave suggestions I'd be really grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap.  
> So Chapter 2. Mostly just a transition piece.

Jim is given his padd the next morning when he’s released into his quarters to _eat, sleep, watch a fucking movie and did I mention sleep, you brat?_

He has it beneath his arm while he walks down the hallway in the officers quarters. The ship is identical to his Enterprise and bustling. Yeoman and ensigns hurry about with cleaning gear, documents or lab equipment and he occasionally sees an engineer fussing over some wiring. There are familiar faces here or there but Jim doesn’t know most of people he sees. Hell, he’s lucky Spock’s even still his first officer. Jim once visited a universe where he’d had an Andorian Number One.    

When he gets to Q267, Jim hesitates. There’s always the possibility that the lock is different and he could be about to get caught out. It hadn’t been fun last time when he’d been tied up and hard, only to not know the safeword when the professor version of Spock had checked in on him. This time it could get him thrown in the brig.  

Jim presses his fingers down onto the lock; 6-8-9-3-5.

The door slides open to admit him into the Captain’s Quarters.  

But these aren’t his quarters. Jim’s quarters have a bookshelf, three photos over his zen rock of a couch and a desk. These rooms have an ornate blue carpet in front of a couch that’s covered in a homemade quilt and silk pillows. There are no pictures on the wall. From what he can see bedroom through the doorway next to the couch has a red rug.

Jim walks into the room and takes a deep breathe of incense. It has the same, sharp, nostril clearly, eye watering scent that wafted into his bathroom back on his Enterprise when Spock was meditating.

He could see several pairs of boots too many dumped in a corner and a purple cloth laying on the yellow bed. Jim walks over and picks it up, not recognizing the material nor the sweater. He pulled it on over his short sleeved shirt, more out of whim than anything else.

Jim pads back toward the door to look his desk. It has a cactus on it. A fucking cactus.

Jim clicks on his comm, expecting Uhura’s voice to come through the speaker. He wondered what’d be different about her in this universe. Perhaps she hadn’t cut her hair or had turned Spock down or was an Engineer or something equally out of character.

“Captain?” Lieutenant M'Ress’ voice came through the speakers.

“Is Commander Spock on the bridge?” Jim asks after a moment’s pause, not able to think of anything else to say.

“No, sirrr.”

“Who’s got the comm?”

“Are you even supposed to be checking in Captain?” Lieutenant Darwin’s Mom-Voice makes Jim’s shoulders ich for parade rest.

“Nah,” Jim scrambles for the right excuse. “I….He...uhhh...Spock said he would be coming over for chess.”

“He’s scheduled to work with Dr. Sulu today.” Darwin said. “You sound like you need sleep.”

“Don’t we all.” Jim laughs and clicks off his comm. Then he grabs his padd and frantically types in _his_ navigator’s name. Dr. Hikaru Sulu is a civilian contractor with a P.h.D in genetics currently completing a post-doc on the USS Enterprise. Jim stares at the screen in shock and horror. Civilian contractor positions had been removed after the Narada by a unanimous vote. Wonderful, Jim thinkst and sits down into the chair on his desk. At least the chair is identical to his one back on his Enterprise. Then he pulls up his own file and gets to reading.

Captain James T. Kirk has one dead mom and one very nerdy, very alive dad with six degrees and a tenured ground posting. He’s got a living brother with three Deltan spouses and a nephew who he’s probably never met. This guy held onto his field promotion after Captain Pike was partially paralyzed following a terrorist attack by a man named James Harrison- _Khan_ his name was fucking _Khan Noorian Singh._ Jim has to set the padd down and pace back and forth, back and forth for a good half hour before he can go reading.

This man performed admirably once he became Captain, merit after merit attached to his name up until his first officer retired while refusing to disclose the father of her 1/8th betazoid baby, David James Marcus. And he’d thought his brass had it out for _him_. Heck, this guy got dragged in front of a disciplinary board even after the DNA test he’d taken came up negative. Dr. Marcus’ replacement, joining the crew for it’s five year mission, was Commander Spock.

But the Narada is missing.

Jim goes back through his file, again, to confirm that it’s gone and finds nothing. He even looks the through the Level 3 Classified portion. But nothing; ziltch, nada, non. Not a single thing.

And 3.2 billion Vulcans are still alive. Jim shoots out of his chair and rushes into the bathroom to throw up.

“Jim?!”

* * *

 

Spock strides into his quarters, limbs loosening slightly and mouth morphing into a smile at the sight of his Captain wrapped into one of his sweaters, hair falling over blue eyes. Before he can even open his mouth Jim springs out of the chair and rushes into the bathroom. Spock hurries after him and hears the sound of Jim vomiting before he even steps into the bathroom. Spock doesn’t even reach for the system on the wall, he just grabs the comm off his belt.

“Medical Alert!” Spock shouts. “Captain’s Quarters!”

Jim jerks his head out of the toilet and looks up at Spock, clearly about to protest.

“No, Jim.” Spock says, openly glaring at his partner while the toilet flushes. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Jim’s eyes get positively massive at that statement and his mouth falls open as Spock steps over to him.

“Really Spock...I…”

Spock ignores him and gently lifts him to his feet. In a rare display of strength, he puts down the toilet seat and sets Jim atop it. Then, despite the human’s protests, he replicates a glass of water and brings it back. Jim falls silent. That’s when he realises Jim is sniffling. His intended has tear tracks sliding from his luminous blue eyes. Unacceptable. Spock kneels down in front of Jim, cradles his cheek in his palm.

“Here,” Spock says. Jim takes the glass from Spock’s hands and drains the glass.

“Jim,” He asks. “What has happened?”

“What’s going on?” Dr. McCoy’s voice comes from behind Spock.

“I threw up.” Jim says. “Spock freaked out.”

“Uhuh.” Dr. McCoy replied. “Bullshit.”

* * *

 

Dr. McCoy is unable to determine the cause of Jim’s illness. But he is also keeping the Captain overnight for observation and further testing to Jim’s fury. And Spock’s disappointment.

When he returns to his quarters, Spock flops down onto the couch and toes off his boots. Directly across from him, Spock see’s Jim’s padd sitting on Spock’s desk.

It was been odd to find the Captain sitting at his desk. Jim preferred to work either in his ready-room or on the couch. Spock gets up, allowing himself to leave his boots on the floor for the moment. He goes over to the desk and picks up Jim’s padd. Spock swipes it open and is faced with either providing a thumb print or a passcode. It would be useful to see what had driven the Captain to sit at the desk rather than his preferred position. It would also be a violation of his partner’s privacy.

The scream of a Red Alert cuts through Spock’s thoughts.

* * *

Jim sits up in the cot, ears ringing as the lights outside of his room start to flash. He throws the covers off his legs and starts running. Jim tears through Medbay barefoot, passing several nurses and Bones, who hollers after him.

“Damn it! Get back here!”

Jim rushes into the elevator and turns to find himself nose to nose with an irate looking Bones.

“Are you sure that beard is doing anything for you?” Jim asks.

“Exactly where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Bones yells in response.

“The bridge.”

“In a pig’s eye you are, you suicidal…”

The elevator clicks open and Jim tries to dive past Bones. The doctor grabs his bicep, pinching some painful nerve. Jim whirls back to face his friend and grabs his wrist and forearm, twisting it between his palms. Bones lets him go with a grunt of pain.

Jim walks, barefoot onto the bridge.

Spock is seated in the command.

“Jim, what the fuck?” Bones yells after him.

“Commander.” Jim says, eyes glued on Spock’s startled expression. “What’s going on?”

“We have received a distress signal for Vulcan, Captain.”

Jim feels like a Klingon’s kicked his chest as he all but throws himself into the Captain’s chair. There had been no sightings of the Narada since this Jim’s mother’s death. He wondered if it was the same Nero as the one he’d sent through the black hole four years ago.  

“We are the closest Star Ship.” Spock finishes speaking, eyes wide and terrified behind his glasses.

“Chekov!” Jim barks out. “Travel time?”

“10 minutes and closing bloody fast, Captain.” Chekov says and Jim nearly falls out of his chair at the sound of the London accent coming from the kid’s mouth. Fuck.

“Jim what in the name of everloving god has gotten into..” Bones comes up behind the chair shouting. Jim turns and raises two fingers, effectively silencing his friend.

“Prep the photon torpedoes and I want shields up when we come in.”

“Captain?”

Jim turns to look at Spock just in time for to see Bones’ hypo coming down on his neck.

* * *

Jim wakes up to the rocking of the ship. He blinks up at the bright white ceiling, feeling cold, and gropes around to try to find his sheets. There are none. He shoots up from atop the bed and springs up off the cot then he goes flying into a force field. Jim hits the ground hard and feels one of his ribs crack The squeal of red alert seems to kick up a notch as Jim tries to push himself off the floor. He looks up to see Cupcake being slammed into the containment force field as the ship rocks wildly.  

“What the fuck?” Jim gasps out, his left arm tucked around his chest trying to sooth his aching ribs.  God, they’d stuck him in the brig. Jim pulls himself onto his feet and locks eyes with Cupcake. He squares his shoulders, winces, and tries to take a frantic breath.

“There’s a Romulan ship drilling into Vulcan isn’t there?” Jim asks, voice cracking.

“How the fuck would you know that?”

“Because I’ve already lived it.”

“So you aren’t our Captain.” Cupcake gives him a crooked smile. “That won’t make me wanna let you out.”

The ship rocked wilding again, sending both men falling. Jim manages to catch himself against the wall while Cupcake hits the floor with a loud shriek. Jim’s rib throbs painfully and he groans while he stumbles over to look at Cupcake pushing himself off the floor.

“Look, Cupcake,” Jim snaps. “Just tell them that the Romulans wants to blow up the planet.”

“How the fuck could they do that? Ehh?” Cupcake laughs.

The brig ripped open, walls cracking  like an egg right before Jims’ eyes. Cupcake is sucked off to the side, his mouth still open in a chuckle. Jim is thrown back into the wall as his cell whirled off away from the ship.

  


 


End file.
